


You and Your Heart (shouldn't feel so far apart)

by dragon_temeraire



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: College Student Stiles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Derek Gets Therapy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Future Fic, Insecure Derek, M/M, Recovery, Supportive Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 01:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: It had taken Stiles a while to figure it out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My brain started writing this as I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep. When I got up in the morning, I decided I’d try to write it down.

When Derek tucks his face against Stiles’ neck, hips rutting lightly against his through their clothes, Stiles knows why he’s here. His hands come up anyway—one cupping the back of Derek’s neck, the other gripping his hip, gently encouraging.

It had taken Stiles a while to figure it out.

That was partly because of the surprise—not only that Derek wanted to have sex with him, but that he’d stayed afterward, every time. Derek had laid sprawled out, plastered to Stiles’ front and pressing him down into the bed, or tucked up tight against Stiles’ back, arms curled in around him.

He’d expected Derek to be gone in the morning, but he was almost always still there, eyes closed, but not sleeping. He’d get up when Stiles did, and he’d leave wordlessly, sending Stiles looks he didn’t know how to interpret.

And after they had been doing this a while, something shifted. Late in the afterglow, when everything was dark and still, Derek would start talking. At first it was just snippets, little mumbled fragments, with Stiles’ hands still resting comfortingly along his back. Later, it would be more, but Derek would have to practically burrow into Stiles, have him wrapped all around him, before he would whisper quietly against Stiles’ skin.

Stiles never said anything back, because most of what Derek was feeling couldn’t really be mended with words. He just held Derek close, and tried to balance the beating of his riotous heart with his slow, steady breathing, hoping it would grant him some measure of calm.  

And sometimes—sometimes, when Derek showed up, he didn’t even come. He’d wrap his hand around Stiles, carefully suck him off, and once it was over he’d rest his head on Stiles’ stomach, breathing hard. He’d up draw tighter and tighter with tension, until Stiles’ hands settled in his hair. He’d slowly card through it, drifting occasionally to soft, gentle touches of the curve of Derek’s cheek or jaw, until Derek had calmed.

But that’s when he finally figured it out.

That Derek could not accept—or could not seek out—the comfort of another person’s touch, not without sex being involved first. Like he thought it was the only means to getting what he really wanted.

And Stiles knows, _knows_ it’s part of Derek’s past, that he thinks no one will give him care unless he gives something in return.

But he also needs Derek to know that it’s not true, not for him.

So he lets Derek get them both off, waits until Derek is coming down, breath slowing as his muscles relax, and quietly says, “You know that you don’t have to—that you can have this, without having sex with me, right?”

He strokes his thumb over the hard ridges of Derek’s spine and waits him out.

“I _know_ ,” Derek says, muffled and dragged out. And Stiles hears _I know, but I can’t stop._

“And you should—you should really talk to someone,” he tries, feeling like he’s maybe pushing Derek away, even as he’s trying to help. “Someone _qualified_ ,” he adds hastily.

Because this is the summer before he goes off to college, and it’s nearly over. He’s not going to be around as much, and he wants to know that Derek is going to be _okay_. He doesn’t want to take Derek’s only lifeline and leave him with nothing to hold onto.

“Just think about it, okay?” he says. “Please.” He feels Derek unwind again, and there’s what feels like a tiny nod, Derek’s stubble catching against his neck.

He lets his eyes close, thinks about how often he’ll be able to make the three-hour drive back to Beacon Hills.

 

*

 

He doesn’t see Derek at all that last week before he leaves for school. And he’s worried, but he hopes Derek is doing what he needs to, that he’s taking care of himself.

He keeps himself busy with packing and making sure he’ll be able to keep in touch with everyone.

The day he leaves, he texts Derek his new address, and says _I’m here if you need me_. He leaves a spare key on his bedroom window ledge.

Derek doesn’t text back, but Stiles didn’t expect him to.

He can’t help looking into to the rearview mirror as he drives away, thinking about what he’s leaving behind.

 

*

 

Derek shows up two weeks later, just as Stiles is getting into bed. He doesn’t get a good look at Derek’s face, because he shuts off the lights immediately. Then Derek is covering him with his body, face pressed into Stiles’ shoulder, hands pushing their way between Stiles’ back and the mattress.

Stiles is tired and a little disoriented, and Derek is trembling against him, so all he can think to do is to pull the blankets over both of them. He runs his hands down Derek’s back, tracing the curves of his muscles, bunched up tight with tension, until Derek finally lets it go and practically melts into Stiles.

He tilts his head to press a kiss into Derek’s hair, then he lets himself fall asleep.

 

*

 

Derek is still there in the morning, but just cocoons himself deeper into the covers when Stiles gets up. He showers and eats breakfast, and he peeks in one last time before he heads to class, enjoying the sight of Derek curled up in his bed.

And then he abruptly realizes that they didn’t have sex. That Derek didn’t even _try_.

It makes him smile.

Derek is gone by the time he comes back. But there’s a note on the counter that says _thank you_ and _I’m working on it_.

 

*

 

The next weekend, Stiles drives home to see his dad. It feels good to be home, and he can tell his dad is glad he’s there.

He doesn’t see Derek, but Scott says they talked. He says that Derek seems different now.

Stiles is tempted to stop by the loft before he leaves, but he doesn’t. He knows that Derek is a collection of healing wounds right now, and that sometimes even the softest touch can hurt.

 

*

 

It takes another couple of weeks before Derek comes back.

He wasn’t planning to go to bed, but it’s late enough, so he automatically heads that way until Derek catches his arm, tugs him back down to the couch.

“I’ve been talking to someone,” he says quietly, looking like he wants to hide his face against Stiles’ neck. He doesn’t do it, but he does shift closer.

Stiles nods encouragingly, feeling a thread of hope pulling in his chest, because Derek’s expression is more open than he’s ever seen it.

“And I don’t really know what I’m doing—except maybe getting better,” Derek says, the corner of his mouth twitching up, just a little. “But I—you mean a lot to me. And I want to have something with you, I want to try.” He swallows thickly.

Stiles slides his hand into Derek’s, lightly squeezes. “I want that too,” he says.

“But we’ll have to take things slow,” Derek says, like it’s a warning, like it’s a problem.

“That’s okay,” Stiles says, as gently as he can. “Derek, it’s okay if it takes time.”

Derek looks both happy and broken open, so Stiles touches the fingers of his free hand to the back of his neck, a gentle invitation. Derek takes it, folding down and leaning his head against Stiles’ chest.

He falls asleep with Derek blanketing him, and it finally feels right.

Derek is still there in the morning, and Stiles kisses his cheek before he leaves.

When he gets back from class, he finds Derek sitting at his kitchen table, reading, and he smiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
